


Oh Darling, We're Going Down

by ButterflyEye



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Angst, Dark, Eventual Smut, Grinding, Hurt Stephen Strange, Knife Play, M/M, Obsessive Behavior, Serial Killer Tony Stark, Stockholm Syndrome, Torture, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-11 15:09:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20155612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ButterflyEye/pseuds/ButterflyEye
Summary: Tony Stark, serial killer, takes a liking to Stephen Strange, surgeon, after he saves one of Tony's victims.





	Oh Darling, We're Going Down

**Author's Note:**

> Ahem, this is going to be fun :)

Tony was _enraged_.

He paced back and forth in front of the flat screen, currently blaring “breaking news” like it was the end of the world and not a single man’s life on the line. Tony bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, reminding him briefly, that he hadn’t bothered to clean up properly and his shirt and hands were still dotted with red. Didn’t matter, not now.

It had been a stupid mistake, an amateur mistake. He knew better by now, to double check, but he’d had a meeting and rushed right though. It grinded at him to know he’d made that mistake, that one cut, only millimetres off, meant he might live.

Tony wasn’t even afraid of the man identifying him, it wouldn’t happen, and if by some miracle he did, the world wouldn’t believe him. They loved Tony, saw him as bringing in the new age of defensive technology, of course he wouldn’t throw it all away to run rampant through the streets of New York.

No, what grated on him was the fact that the man currently going through surgery belonged to Tony, his life was no one’s but his and they dared to try and steal it from him. Of all his victims, Tony would even wager that most would agree he deserved to die. When he’d chosen him of course, he hadn’t known the man liked to beat his wife and child, but perhaps that was just karma.

The scene on the tv shifted to a man standing outside the hospital, hand against the earpiece dramatically and Tony froze, hands curling into fists as he watched.

“We have just received word that after seven hours of surgery with renowned surgeon Dr. Stephen Strange, Arnold Solvin has survived the procedure and is being moved into critical care.”

Tony let out of cry and he lashed a hand at the tv, shoving it over and watching a long crack weave its way over the screen. It wasn’t enough, the itch in his chest telling him the man needed to die rising up and leaving his hands shaking. The anger too, had multiplied until he found himself picking up the beer bottle on the table and smashing it against the wall. It was a hollow satisfaction. He needed to kill. He needed to kill Arnold Solvin and put him in the ground where he belonged.

Tony could already imagine the panic that would spread. The city had known it had a serial killer for just under five months, unawares that Tony had been doing this for years. He’d only just recently upgraded from the homeless on the street, the drugged-up teens, the prostitutes. They had grown boring, resigned to their fates with only token resistance. Maybe they knew death was better than the lives they were living. Tony had wanted more.

So, one day, Happy had been driving him down the street, and he spotted a woman. There hadn’t been anything remarkable about her except the truly charismatic smile. Tony had visions of that face plastered across news sites and billboards and that was all it took to know she was next. She was beautiful, she’d bring about the attention he wanted.

He’d killed her not two days later. Almost did it in her home but it was too unoriginal. No, Tony hid in an alleyway as she made her way to work in the morning where she played secretary all day. One carefully maneuvered bullet, ejected from his new invention that would never see the light of day and she stumbled a few feet, apologizing, before realizing the pain in her side was a bit more serious then a sudden cramp. Tony was already a block away by then, casually stepping into Happy’s waiting car.

The rush it had given him was enough to drown out the boredom. It lasted nearly a month before Tony spotted his next victim and found himself becoming something like the grim reaper, the harbinger of death. There really was something to those nicknames the press like to give him for selling weapons to the government. Tony didn’t mind. In fact, he reveled in it.

Now, though, this entire situation was making a mockery of him. It was a humiliation to leave that man breathing and one he intended to deal with. His usual methods wouldn’t do, however, obviously the man would be under police protection for further notice.

It was a good thing Tony could be patient.

Until then.

There was another way to get his message across.

He glared at the broken television before sliding his phone out of his pocket. A quick search brought him to a brief biography page for Dr. Stephen Strange. The man’s eyes were bright with a rather lovely intelligence, a smirk not so unlike his own, and an air of superiority Tony could feel even with the old picture.

Yes.

The doctor who saved Tony’s victim. Killing him would increase the police presence around the man for awhile but that was alright. Tony was willing to wait years for the paranoia and weariness to die down, though he doubted it would take that long. Then, one night, while he slept, he’d kill him. Maybe Tony would even let his wife have a go with the knife, she might like that.

But this doctor. Tony felt a familiar urge rise up inside him, the strength of the longing to see this cold man with tears streaming down his cheeks, hair musses from rough handling, delicate knife marks across that porcelain skin, taking him by surprise. Stephen Strange wouldn’t seem so untouchable then. Excitement left Tony grinning as he finally stepped away from disrepair of the room and went to shower.

Already, he was figuring out how to approach the doctor inconspicuously. It wouldn’t be a death on the streets or warm in his bed, no, Tony wanted to make a spectacle out of it. Something felt special about this doctor who thought he could save Tony’s victim and he had every intention of figuring out what it was before seeing the light die in his eyes.


End file.
